


Protection

by jerk3max



Category: Hat Films - Fandom, The Yogscast
Genre: Ace Trott, City Sorcery Yogs, Egg Laying, Harpie!Smith, Heat Cycles, Hybrid AU, M/M, Oviposition, Siren!Sips, im the trash king lord of the trash, selkie!Trott, werewolf!Ross
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-16
Updated: 2015-08-15
Packaged: 2018-04-14 22:52:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4583196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jerk3max/pseuds/jerk3max
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Smith fucks around too much for his own good, and never learns his lesson.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Not the Flu

**Author's Note:**

> i thought id upload my csy ovi fics here!

It is another lazy day in the office when the radiators break and the heat is replaced by cold January air. Many take to wearing their onesies while working, finding chattering teeth too hard to record with and deciding to catch up with editing instead.

Smith pulls the giraffe onesie hood over his head, groaning in discomfort before rolling on the sofa to get a better position. He tugs the drape of fabric Ross had used for a wizard costume over his body as a makeshift blanket. He frowns and rubs his head as his headache returns.

“You alright, mate?” Ross laughs, sitting on the sofa beside the taller man currently curled up in the foetal position. Smith waves his arm dismissively and pulls the fabric over his head. “Avian flu again?”

“Ross, shut up,” Smith says, another groan passing over his lips and making him convulse. Ross frowns and cradles his mug of tea for a moment. “You’re thinking too loud, it’s keeping me awake.”

“Sorry,” Ross clears his throat and lays down beside the harpie, nuzzling into his neck and resting a hand on his hip, which Smith shifts up to his shoulder. “You sleep and I’ll persuade Trott to drive us home,” Ross whispers, kissing Smith’s head.

“Make him some tea,” Smith says, Ross nodding before sitting up and wandering out into the kitchen. Smith wraps a hand around his stomach and groans again, squeezing his eyes shut before trying to get some sleep.

About three minutes later, Ross walks back in with Trott, the smaller man sipping happily at his overly large mug of tea. Ross chuckles softly at Smiff sprawled on the sofa, large wings wrapped around his body as a secondary blanket. Trott rests a palm against his forehead before pulling back and wiping his hand on his trousers.

“He said it wasn’t the flu, right?” Trott asks, Ross twitching his ears and nodding. “Maybe he’s just molting again.”

“Should I carry him out to the car?” Ross asks, Trott shaking his head before pointing at his mug. “Tea over boyfriends, nice priorities, mate.”

“Tea doesn’t complain,” Trott jokes, wandering over to his desk and letting the wolf man curl up on the sofa beside Smith once more. Smith fidgets in his sleep and Ross kisses his head again. Trott gulps down the rest of his drink and pulls his coat on over his red panda onesie, whistling at Ross to pick up their sick friend.

Ross lays Smith down in the back, awkwardly strapping him in and fussing at Trott to drive slower. Trott rolls his eyes but does as he says.

Smith is awake by the time they reach his apartment building, insisting he can walk despite the abdominal pain and the amount of sweat he has on his skin. He wraps an arm around Ross as Trott runs ahead to unlock his door, Smith arguing with Ross quietly through pants.

As soon as they reach his room, Trott shoves a bottle of water into his hand and makes Smith take his dose of Ultramol, before helping him into bed.

“Did you eat something bad yesterday?” Trott asks as Smith sleepily chugs another bottle of water.

“Nah, mate, jus’ dud eggs again,” Smith yawns, screwing the cap onto the empty bottle and putting it on his nightstand.

“Is that a good thing?” Ross frowns, Smith patting his stomach and letting his wings settle around him softly.

“Kind of? I just sort of lay eggs if they don’t get fertilised in time, its fucking disgusting, mate,” Smith groans, rolling onto his side and clutching his stomach, “They’re heavier this time, though.” Ross rubs his back around his large wings, fighting the urge to curl up with him while he sleeps off his pain.

“What do you even do with them?” Trott asks, pulling the duvet over him and letting Ross bundle under the covers.

“Throw them out, usually,” Smith yawns, wrapping his wing around Ross as the werewolf cuddles up to him. “I should send them to Sips, since that bastard got me in this situation in the first place.”

“So, wait, we’re going to have to put up with little tiny Sips-Smith combos running around?” Trott frowns, Smith huffing and pushing him off the bed with his wing.

“No, just-  _ugh_ \- Google it, Trott. Let me sleep you asshole,” Smith says, throwing his empty bottle at Trott and laughing so hard he has to grab his stomach and breathe deeply.

Trott rolls his eyes and crawls into bed beside the harpie, typing in random keywords to find at least one article that gives readable answers. Ross’ tail wagging against the mattress becomes the only noise in the room apart from Smith’s pained, sleepy whimpers and Ross huffing through his nose in a bored way. Smith rolls over in his sleep and knocks his wing against Trott’s arm before cocooning himself and Ross to comfort himself. Trott sighs and locks his phone.

After an hour of Smith crying out quietly and keeping him awake, Trott sits up and sighs. Of  _course_  Smith has to go into freaky  _bird labour_  on the coldest day of the year, leaving him wide awake and sitting in defeat under the duvet his boyfriends were hogging. He runs his fingers through Smith’s feathers in attempt to be soothing, figuring the lack of distressed noises is a good sign. Smith chirps quietly and his feather puff out, shaking softly before letting Trott touch them again. The selkie kisses the base of Smith’s neck and hopes the small action will calm him down long enough for Trott to fall asleep too.

Smith wakes up at exactly 1:30 AM on the dot, curses tumbling from his mouth as he tries to sit up. Trott frowns at him through bleary, sleep hazed eyes, Smith wiping his sweaty forehead on his onesie before swatting Ross’ stomach.

“Go get towels and painkillers, a-and help me to the edge of the bed,” Smith says, voice breaking as he fiddles with his buttons and tugs the onesie off. Trott struggles with muffling his resulting yawn, arm wrapped around Smith’s waist as he helps the harpie to the end of the bed where he can crouch down easier.

“So what happens now?” Trott asks as Smith tugs off his boxers and frowns at how soaked they are.

“We’ve been dating, what, four years? And you never bothered to learn how harpie cloacas work?” Smith jokes, laugh fading into a grunt of displeasure. Trott flushes and gives a passing glance to the swollen hole between Smith’s legs. “Pervert.”

Trott starts to whine out a defense before Ross stumbles back in with what seems to be all the towels in the house, a box of painkillers, and three bottles of water. Smith coos happily and hisses in pain, tugging a towel between his legs before leaning back on the bed again.

“I’m going to fucking  _kill_  Sips for putting me through this, I’m such a twat, guys,” Smith sighs, fidgeting his fluffed up wings before touching himself. “Thank Christ he wasn’t around to actually fertilise them or we’d all be fucked.”

“You should send them to Sips as a huge ‘ _fuck you_ ’ gift,” Ross says, uncapping one bottle of water and letting Smith drink. Smith laughs through his nose and touches the base of his stomach, wings twitching before setting against his back again.

“There’s six or seven, I think,” Smith says, slowly pushing two fingers inside himself and making Trott want to look away and wash his eyes out. He never thought he would be sex repulsed, but under the circumstances, he sees the appeal.

Ross draws Smith’s sweat soaked fringe out of his eyes and kisses his head, Smith gripping his arm before groaning and leaning on him heavily. Trott pets his wings again and Smith grits his teeth as the first egg stretches him out, tears pricking at his eyes as the first egg finally crowns and drops onto the towel.

“Six more,” Smith groans, lurching forward and grabbing his stomach, Ross nudging his hands out of the way and rubbing tiny circles into his swollen belly. Smith smiles weakly and rests his head against Ross’ shoulder. “Trott, you can leave if you want.”

“Why would I leave?” Trott asks, petting his wings as he convulses again.

“Because you’re asexual and this is clearly making you uncomfortable,” Smith replies, gritting his teeth again and crying out through gasps.

“I want to be here for you, you disgusting animal,” Trott says, making Smith laugh and reach for his hand and near enough breaking his fingers as the second egg pushes through. Smith yelps as the second egg falls onto the towel.

After that, the eggs started crowning faster, Smith smacking the back of Ross’ head when Ross jokes about how loose he is. Smith groans as the fourth egg comes with a sudden gush of clear fluid.

“ _Shit_ ,” Smith curses, leaning heavily on Ross and running a hand over his cloaca. Ross frowns and pets his hair, trying to relax him as Smith convulses. “I fucking came, now I’m going to be too sensitive,  _fuck_.”

“What happens now then?” Trott asks, helping Smith sit upright.

“It’s going to hurt,  _a lot_ ,” Smith groans, pointing to the tiny box of pills and swallowing two. Smith digs his nails into Ross’ arm as the fifth egg starts crowning, muttering for Trott to look away for a second as he pushes a finger into himself beside the egg to help it slip out onto the towel.

Smith wipes angrily at the tears pricking in his eyes before shifting uncomfortably, Ross drawing back his sweat soaked hair and smiling at him weakly. “Two to go,” He says, softly, Smith nodding before shuddering and starting to tremble as the sixth egg stretches him painfully before hitting the towel.

The seventh egg stretches Smith beyond his limits, making him cry out in pain as it slides out with another rush of fluid. He practically collapses against Ross, panting and shaking as Ross pets his hair softly.

“I’m going to fucking murder Sips for this,” Smith mutters, getting Ross to help him to stand before Trott wipes him down with a spare towel. They help him into bed, Smith telling Trott to fetch more water and a bucket just in case.

Ross begins to attempt aftercare, massaging Smith’s back and trying to avoid his still swollen cloaca. Smith thanks him with a grateful grunt before he clicks his shoulders and passes out laying on his stomach. He curls up beside the already snoring man, tail wagging softly as Trott sighs and crawls in bed too.


	2. Don't Tell Trott

Smith can always sense Ross’ heats before they come. **  
**

Ross gets irritable, louder, and more touchy-feely counting up to the days before his bi-annual heat, and Smith pretends it’s a surprise when it hits and Ross is a shuddering, horny mess. Smith offers a ‘helping hand’ to him, a joke that makes Ross laugh every time, until he eventually huffs and asks for something else.

“Smith, can you ride me?” Ross asks, hair stuck to his forehead from copious amounts of sweat and his pupils blown wide from his heat induced arousal. “Can we do that? Is that something you’d want to do with me?”

Shifting over on the bed, Smith shakes out his feathers and straddles Ross, humming as he draws his tongue across the very obvious erection straining against the fabric of his shorts. Ross moans and wiggles beneath his weight, Smith smirking and petting the soft fur beneath his navel and into his jeans.

“Whoa, easy there, mate, getting a big eager are we?” Smith teases, unzipping Ross’ shorts and softly rutting against his leg.

“Says you, I can feel your slick through your ugly beige chinos as we speak, you dirty fucker!” Ross laughs, Smith taking mock offence before Ross fidgets beneath him and softly touches the soaked patch of his trousers. “Fuck, you’d feel so fucking good around me, you’d look so pretty when you’re full of me.”

Smith bits his lip and shuffles out of his clothes, his boxers catching on his talons as he hurriedly wriggles out of them. Ross tugs his shorts to mid-thigh and Smith immediately licks him through his underwear and grins when he writhes on the bed.

“Fuck, Smith, you asshole,” Ross gasps, covering his face with his hand as Smith tugs his underwear down and takes one of Ross’ balls in his mouth. Ross makes a keening noise as Smith pulls off with a ridiculously obscene noise.

Smith crawls closer and rubs his cloaca against Ross’ shaft. Ross arches off the bed and whines as Smith lifts his hips and softly pushes onto him.

“Holy shit, mate, y- You’re so fucking tight,” Ross moans, brushing his hand across Smiths soft down beneath his belly button. Smith smiles and rocks his hips once.

“I could always just pull off, Ross, and you can deal with your heat on your own,” Smith hums, gasping when he feels Ross’ knot start to swell beneath him. “Oh, close already?”

“I’m in heat, Smith, I- Fuck- I can’t help it,” Ross moans, holding Smith’s hips and feeling his wings settle against his back.  Smith licks the crook of his neck and starts bouncing on Ross’ lap. Smith beams at the proud feeling in his stomach when Ross whimpers like a puppy and thrusts his knot into him. “I’m coming- Oh God, Smith you feel fucking amazing.”

Smith flutters his wings and rocks back onto him, tightening around him as his knot swells to his fullest size and Ross comes. Smith gasps at the feel of it inside him, touching over his stomach as Ross’ scent weakens and his heat is over.

“Trott’s going to murder us for not using protection,” Ross laughs, shifting back to try and dislodge his knot from Smith’s sensitive cloaca. Smith shrugs and rubs his stomach.

“What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him,” Smith says, cuddling up to Ross and wrapping a lazy wing around him.

* * *

Ten days later, Smith has a very obvious bulge poking out from under his shirt. The unfertilized eggs sit heavily in his abdomen and he pretends it’s just stomach ache whenever Trott wanders in and glares at his pained face.

Trott rolls his eyes and Smith sticks to too-big hoodies to avoid suspicion, eventually begging Ross to stay at his place (no matter how much Colin annoys him) because he could lay at any moment. Ross tries to act as natural as possible despite being panicked out of his mind.

Thankfully, Smith gets the usual stabbing contractions about midday, immediately doubling over in the tiny kitchen space and having slick soak through his trousers and drip onto the floor. He calls for Ross and allows Colin to help him into the bathroom as Ross rushes around the apartment for bottles of water and towels.

Colin gives them space, blowing a kiss towards Ross and throwing a half used box of painkillers towards them before leaving. Ross flushes beet red and passes Smith two pills as he makes a tiny nest of towels and crouches in the centre.

Ross kneels beside him and softly touches against his swollen cloaca, softly pressing two fingers inside him and feeling the egg against his fingertips. Smith bares down and steadies himself on Ross’ shoulder, softly pushing his large belly and letting the egg slide down.

Smith whines as the first egg starts to crown, Ross shushing him softly and softly coaxing the light orange egg out. Smith wipes his eyes on the back of his hand when it drops onto the towel.

“How many left?” Ross asks, softly touching Smith’s distended belly and biting his lip when he feels the next egg slide down into place.

“I- I don’t know, five maybe?” Smith says, gasping when Ross touches over his cloaca, “Hey grabby, careful.”

Ross laughs and twitches his ears, Smith clenching his teeth and pushing, crying out softly when the egg crowns and slips back inside him. Ross rubs his back softly as the egg stretches past its widest point and drops onto the towel. Ross cleans the egg and sets it back into the makeshift nest, Smith leaning on him heavily and panting. Ross wraps an arm around him to steady him as the next egg falls into place.

Smith cries out as the next egg starts to push out. He grips tightly onto Ross’ shirt and wraps his wings around them. Ross lets the egg fall into his hand and Smith coos softly as Ross sets it down.

“Don’t worry, it’s there with the others,” Ross says, petting the inside of Smith’s wing and helping him bare down to lay the next egg.

“Sorry, mate, hormones make me protective,” Smith whines, clutching his belly.

“I know, remember that time you shouted at me when I threw them away before you were done laying?”

Smith laughs and nudges Ross’ shoulder, grunting when the fourth egg slips out into Ross’ awaiting hand and gets softly wiped and set aside. Smith whimpers then the next egg slides out almost immediately, hitting the towel with a soft thud.

“Just one more,” Ross says assuringly, Smith nodding weakly and sitting back on shaking legs.

“I- I don’t think I can- I’m too sore, Ross,” Smith whimpers, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand and crying softly. “Help me out you bastard,” Smith says, a joking tone around his pained noises.

Ross presses one hand against the top of Smith’s stomach bulge, helping it slip down as Smith cries out and curls his talons into the towel, ripping it to pieces. Ross gently massages Smith’s cloaca and helps him push until he feels the egg against his hand, Ross practically chanting praise as the egg crowns past the swollen opening.

The egg slides out with a gush of clear fluid, Smith gasping and shuddering, his legs giving way beneath him. Ross pets his hair and carries him to his bedroom, helping him clean up before tucking him in and setting the six eggs beside him.

“I’ll throw them out in the morning, when my bird brain stops telling me they’re fertilised,” Smith says, wrapping his wings around himself and the clutch of eggs. “Just tell Trott it’s avian flu if he asks, okay?”

“I’ll try my best, you know he’s a ball ache to convince. Just get some sleep you disgusting animal,” Ross says, kissing Smith’s forehead and blushing when Smith smiles. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments and kudos are appreciated!

**Author's Note:**

> "why didnt you just write umy?" i hear you cry  
> well i hate that au so fucking much!! the creators have manipulated and threatened me to the point i had to contact police about what they had said about me, and fans have sent me rape threats.   
> i will never write umy and i never want any association with that dog shit of an au


End file.
